


Greatly Falling

by sphilia



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, dubious like making out with your ex after he kidnapped you and also became a spider furry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphilia/pseuds/sphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl wants control back. Tarantulas won’t relinquish it easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greatly Falling

Prowl felt distinctly off balance. Already disoriented from injuries and unfamiliar captivity, his gyros were spinning hopelessly out of control now, after being carted up and down and upside down like a sack of wing nuts on Tarantulas’ back, then dumped unceremoniously to the floor when he began to get too out of it to, presumably, appreciate the bizarre ‘tour’ of Tarantulas’ facilities to the spider’s satisfaction.

He covered his unbroken optic with a hand, trying to shut out the world swaying and listing around him, but instantly regretted it when he felt Tarantulas hook a paw around his waist and tug him close.

“Steady on your feet, Prowl,” Tarantulas purred in his audio. His other arm wrapped around Prowl, guiding him around until they were chest to chest.

The alien sensation of slim, hairy limbs rubbing against his plating was repulsive, but Prowl said nothing. The advantage was Tarantulas’. Prowl would be no safer outside his embrace than within it - if Tarantulas would even let him go if he demanded it. He had no desire to try, and risk provoking some petty demonstration of power on his person.

Tarantulas rubbed Prowl's back with languid caresses, studying him with the leisurely, smug air of one who held all the cards, who was free to take his time toying with his prize. “Poor Prowl. You must be tired,” he said with mock concern. “Let's sit down for a moment, hmm?”

“Tarantulas…” Don't play games with me, he wanted to say. Don't mock me. But he was cut off with an undignified yelp when Tarantulas paws slipped down and hefted him up by his thighs like he weighed nothing. His hands scrambled automatically for purchase against Tarantulas’ furry shoulders. He felt movement, but could tell nothing else, cradled close to Tarantulas’ massive chest as he was.

“I thought you wanted to show off,” he couldn't quite stop himself from grumbling. Being carried like this was… too intimate. It was humiliating.

Tarantulas’ chuckle reverberated through his chest like a physical caress, touching every inch of Prowl's frame pressed against him. Prowl tried not to shudder. He suspected he failed. “Patience, Prowl. We're here.”

Prowl felt Tarantulas spin with a flourish, taking a seat on what appeared to be something absurdly like a huge throne. He carefully placed Prowl in his lap, clearly taking great pleasure in spreading Prowl's thighs until he was straddling Tarantulas’ leg. Prowl huffed, lips pressed into a thin line, but his hands flexed restlessly against Tarantulas’ shoulders while his body was manipulated like a puppet.

“There…” Tarantulas underlined the word by dragging one claw slowly down the back of Prowl's leg. “Nice and comfortable.”

Prowl bit back a smart response. It would be pointless to make Tarantulas angry, at least until Prowl could figure out what the hell he  _ wanted _ .

At the moment, all he seemed to want was to run furry paws along Prowl's plating, idly tracing nonsense shapes against his back. Tarantulas wasn't even looking him in the eye, but tracing his body downward with dim optics. He looked like he was considering which part of Prowl to have for dinner.

Though he said nothing, Tarantulas’ mandibles moved restlessly, clicking and twitching. There was something almost hypnotic in watching them. Prowl found himself leaning forward a fraction. He blamed it on his fatigue.

His fingers twined in coarse fur, unpleasantly scratchy to the touch, and he thought about laying his hands, just like this, against the firm rubber of shoulder wheels. Of digging fingers into the pliant material, of groping and squeezing until red optics dimmed and Mesothulas melted into a needy puddle in his arms.

Tarantulas was repulsive. Too large, too gangly, an unnatural construct of repellently organic parts that assaulted every sense. He looked, and felt, and even smelled like the beast he had made himself. In short, everything about him was utterly disgusting. It was… compelling.

It was with a grotesque sort of fascination that Prowl dragged himself up by his grip on Tarantulas’ furry shoulders. Tarantulas’ paws slipped down for an opportunistic grope as soon as his rear left Tarantulas’ leg, jostling Prowl even tighter against Tarantulas - Prowl wondered sourly if he knew how obvious he was being, or if he just didn’t care.

Tarantulas’ attention finally snapped back to Prowl’s face when Prowl hooked a finger around his lower left mandible and tugged very lightly, more a call for attention than an attempt to budge it. The mandible twitched under his finger.

“What are you doing, Prowl?” Tarantulas asked mildly. Almost absently, one furry paw slid slowly to Prowl's hip joint. The single curved claw on the end of the paw was easily slender enough to dip into the joint gap and hook an entire bundle of cables. There was no doubt in Prowl's mind that Tarantulas had the strength to rip out the bundle if he so desired, but he simply held it in his claw, a subtle warning. As if Prowl needed one. He was well aware who held the power here.

Prowl dragged his focus back to the task at hand, experimentally running his thumb along the mandible he held. It was comfortingly smooth and metallic to the touch, free of the organic textures of the rest of Tarantulas’ body. It wiggled almost playfully against his fingers, and without thinking, he gave it a teasing pinch. Tarantulas made a small, inarticulate noise, a soft hiss. An exhale of hot air brushed Prowl's fingers from within the oral cavity behind the mandibles. Oral vents, Prowl noted absently. Another bit of organic mimicry.

He shifted seemingly absently, studying Tarantulas’ expression in his periphery, those bright yellow optics focused on Prowl with disconcerting intensity. Prowl carefully filed that away in his mind. if Tarantulas hungered for reciprocation, Prowl would use it, without hesitation.

Prowl raised his free hand and ran a single finger down the right side of Tarantulas’ maw, just barely brushing the base of the mandibles on that side. They quivered restlessly under his touch. Prowl followed the movement with his functioning optic, leaning slowly closer, until, finally, he could wrap his lips delicately around the middle right mandible.

Tarantulas’ vents hitched. Loudly. Prowl smirked around his mouthful. Traces of oral solvent burned sharp against his tongue, taste as foreign, as unnatural as everything else about Tarantulas, but Prowl found himself… not disliking it. He dragged his tongue and lips along the mandible, away from the sharp tip, closer to the thick base, until his lips could no longer wrap all the way around it. Optic dimming, he glanced up at Tarantulas, then looked away almost shyly. Slowly, he gave the mandible one long, sultry suckle. Shaky exvents brushed his lips like caresses, even as Tarantulas’ arms tightened, drawing Prowl nearly painfully close. Something like victory coiled around Prowl’s spark, bright and sweet.

Then Tarantulas’ drew one deep, slow vent, and gave his head a great shake, shaking Prowl off like he was getting rid of a pesky fly. His mandibles flared, revealing the gaping maw behind, and even as Prowl scrambled to regain his balance, one large paw cradled the back of his head, pushing him almost gently into Tarantulas’ jaws. His mandibles snapped shut around Prowl's face, digging painfully into his cheek plates.

A quiet, broken groan worked it's way out of Prowl's vocalizer, and he hated himself for it. He hooked one shaky hand over Tarantulas’ mandibles, but now they refused to budge an inch. They were digging in hard enough to leave lasting dents, like marks of ownership, and Prowl knew it was entirely on purpose. Humiliation burned in his chest. He'd allowed himself to think he had some small measure of control, but Tarantulas ripped it back out of his hands like he was nothing. Like he never even stood a chance.

Like this, nearly forced inside Tarantulas’ maw, the pungent scent of his oral solvent was overwhelming, the hot air from his oral vent repulsively damp to Prowl's senses. He hated it.

Tarantulas’ breathy laughter stoked a fresh wave of humiliation that caught in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. Prowl grit his teeth and shook in Tarantulas’ arms.

“Oh, Prowl,” Tarantulas purred, hideous satisfaction thick in his voice. “Any more of that, and I'll want to keep you.” His paws roamed restlessly over Prowl's back. “I'm starting to think that's what you want.”

“No,” Prowl ground out, voice shaking with restrained fury. “I have no interest in being your  _ pet _ .”

“Oh, but I could make it so rewarding for you… It's too bad, really,” Tarantulas sighed. “It simply wouldn't work with my plans for you.”

All at once, the mandibles parted, allowing Prowl to drop like a rock back down into Tarantulas’ lap. Prowl glared, teeth gritting so hard they made an ugly screeching noise. No matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to stop shaking.

Tarantulas sniggered cruelly, stroking Prowl's back with mock affection. “Don’t try that again, hmm? Next time, I might not be able to resist.” He leaned down, pressing his mandibles against Prowl's audio like a mock kiss, voice lowering to a whisper. “You would look ever so fetching on a leash.”

Prowl bowed his head in silent, furious defeat, and he  _ hated _ .


End file.
